I love coffee. Done well, it's the perfect beverage, even better than an extra dry martini. You may think I need a psych evaluation after you read about my latest adventure in coffee.
I think I can put part of the blame on my friends the Crothers who introduced us to a ridiculously pricey cup of brew last year before my second relapse. They had purchased a Saeco espresso maker at a garage sale and could no longer have coffee any other way. The machine is huge, has its own grinder and makes up to two cups of espresso or or one 8-oz. cup of hair-on-your-chest coffee in a single minute. You simply cannot resist this delicious shot of black liquid.
Mariel commented that the purchase and the size of the machine itself seemed unlike us. We are surely more quiet and unassuming than this monster would suggest. Some might justify the expense by saying they won't buy a cup of coffee on the way to or at work. A Starbuck's veinte can set you back a few dollars a day. But we always make our own coffee, except in restaurants, so that's a bogus argument for us. We just wanted a perfect cup of coffee and were willing to pay and give up valuable kitchen real estate to get it.
Come on over and I'll brew you a cup. I'll even let you have milk and sugar. The machine has a frothing wand, which I've yet to use, but means there's cappuccino in my future. Like maybe this afternoon.
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Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
Tale of a Cord Blood Transplantee Who Relapses and Goes on to Have a Matched Unrelated-Donor Transplant
The Weight
Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
ABOUT ME
In March 2006, I was diagnosed with a blood cancer called Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML). Life as I knew it came to a crashing halt. After enduring a month in the hospital where I received intense chemotherapy, I was declared "in remission." I had three additional treatments and remained cancer-free until May 2007, when I relapsed.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
2 comments:
Sounds terrific. I'll be right over. I'm a coffee nut too. Shunning Dunkin Donuts, when on the road I'm likely to take a crazy detour looking for a Starbucks.
Life is too short to drink average coffee, wine, whatever.
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